Serendipitous Browsing: A summary and commentary of Thomas Mann’s “What’s Going on at the Library of Congress?”

Thomas Mann outlines five important developments at the Library of Congress which he finds distressing in regards to the future of academic and reference librarianship, insomuch as most of the major libraries in North America take their direction and classification system from the LC. I would like to focus on two:

  1. A move to abandoning the LC system of headings (essentially leaving categorization to Google-like keyword searches and Amazon-like user recommendations)
  2. To accept digital copies of those works not “born digital”, i.e. books, in place of their paper representation on a physical shelf.

The goal the administration of the LC has with these measurements is to bring the libraries into the “digital age”—however, Mann finds major faults with these developments and their move to exclude traditional methods of research. Furthermore Mann is not arguing from a position of ludditism or a desire to cling to the “dying book”. On the contrary, if we read his past works, Mann praises the computer as allowing new avenues for finding information that researchers would not found otherwise. However, Mann does call for caution against digital searches taking the place of traditional methods of browsing; rather, the two are naturally complimentary.

What Mann argues, far from helping the “modern user” of the library, is that these developments actually hinder the ability to complete through research. The “skewed vision” the administration has of users is the “lazy undergraduate” who would rather remain in their dorm room in front of their computer rather then walk the distance to the library to perform such outdated tasks as looking at a book. The vision, one held as far back as Leibniz, is of the Universal library, where every piece of information would be only a keyword or two away. The problem with this, however, is that the keyword search is not the sole, or even main, way in which scholars perform research. Mann cites usability surveys noting that 52% of respondents actually (gasp) go to the stacks to do research. 1

What benefits those who work beyond a simple one or two term Google-like search:

  1. LC subject headings give the marked benefit of browsing by subject. Mann cites an instance where a researcher had done a catalogue search for “Yugoslavia” and “history”, and of course come up with an overwhelming number or matches. However, a quick browse through the more manageable Subject browse not only granted the researcher needed focus, but also outlined some areas of research which is first keyword search had missed entirely.While it could be argued that a better educated searcher could use keywords more appropriately, I sincerely doubt that the “lazy undergrad” could do so. Yet, as a supplement to keyword searches, categorical browsing allows for an additional level of flexibility.
    The Google software cannot display browse menus of subjects with subdivisions and cross-references, allowing researchers to simply recognize options that they cannot specify in advance [because they are unknown at the time of the initial search]. Library catalogs provide much more efficient and systematic overviews of the range of books relevant to any topic….While the Google project may enhance information seeking, it will greatly curtail scholarship—which requires connections, linkages, and overviews.
  2. Secondly, and this is the point which struck me the most, is the notion of serendipitous browsing. This is the activity by which researchers go to a subject classified section and discover books which one had not set out to discover.
    One survey elicited the finding that “The importance of serendipitous browsing in library collections cannot be overemphasized by the majority of faculty space holders.”
    This requires that the libraries, despite the possibilities of computer organization, continue to arrange books on actual, accessible, shelves by a pre-determined subject classification. This also means that libraries cannot shuffle under used books off to book warehouses while digital copies remain on file.

What struck me by this is the fact that, true to the survey, much of my own research is done through the discovery of books in adjacent sections to the one I set out to retrieve. Mann gives the example, which I won’t go into, of a book discovery which would be next to impossible, even through a full-text Google search, but occurred through serendipitous browsing (hopefully this can become a technical term for this action).

Arguably user-initiated linking could allow for such connections to be made. However, there is the epistemological problem of how does one make connections before the connection itself has already been made? If two works or topics are already linked, then in essence the research itself is already done. How does a scholar make connections that have not been thought before? Often serendipitously, a fact Mann has gleaned from his 25 years of practical experience working at the Library of Congress.

This is not to say that Mann is decrying the use of computers for research. On the contrary, his printed works, Library Research Models for example, repeatedly praise the possibilities for research through computers; at the same time, they give a caution to balance one’s research through all avenues possible. And, in any event, this itself is the sign of a good researcher. And it should be our job as information professionals to train the “lazy undergrad” to use all means possible in their searches.

I think that this is the main point we have to remember. All of these things are not difficult to implement. Let us have Google-like searches, Amazon-like ratings and Del.icio.us-like tagging alongside subject classification. We can gain much from folksonomies, and we don’t have to do so at the loss of traditional hierarchical ontologies. The digital catalogue is flexible enough for both.

However, to limit ourselves to such simple searches is to, in Mann’s words, condemn ourselves to research which is “superficial, incomplete, haphazard, indiscriminate, biased toward recent works, and largely confined to English language sources.”

Jealousy, or, why closed access journal articles not only hurt scholarship, but basic the flow of knowledge

So I introduce Xuan-Yen to an Open Access journal called the Anthropology of Food. In actuality, I had a little bit of an ethical dilemma. I am going back for a Masters degree and they, that is the University of Toronto, turned my library card back on a few weeks ago. So, of course, she asked for my info to get unauthorized access to academic journals online.

BuildingHere is the story, for those that don’t go to U of T. The main branch of the library, the fourteen floor Robarts, denies access to anyone who cannot flash a student, faculty or alumni card. The printed versions of all journals, if we even continue to receive them, are behind this barrier.

One of the main arguments in support for OA is that members of the general public, like Xuan-Yen, cannot access the electronic versions of journals. However, at U of T, you can’t even access the daily paper delivered versions of the New York Times, because they are on the forth floor, and access beyond the third is restricted to those with a library card. Xuan-Yen is not an anthropologist, nutritionist, or even a professional chef. She just likes to educate herself. She graduated successfully with a BA, and wishes to continue with her personal learning, for the pure pleasure of learning. She just gets excited about food, from the preparation to the history and politics of food. And she cannot do that under current conditions.

Well, partially, because to solve my ethical dilemma I told her about OA. Regardless, why should I be placed in an ethical dilemma in the first place? Having done my undergraduate degree in Philosophy, it is my belief that giving the opportunity for learning to someone should be the highest and greatest gift, and one of the most ethically sound choices.

A lot of what I am going to be researching is the fact that, at the beginning of the university, works were copied freely–in fact, to study almost necessitated free copying, which was a natural action to those working under manuscript culture. Digital culture works much in the same way, where reading necessitates making a copy, in every instance. Copying is essential and fundamental to digital communication.

So what happens? Peter Suber, the academic king of OA, links to her.

Ah shucks…..